


Lullaby For A Sadist

by nostalgic90s



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Blood and Violence, Fanart, Flashbacks, Gore, Gun Violence, Heavy Petting, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Masturbation, Mental Health Issues, Repressed Memories, Sexual Tension, Sibling Incest, Stabbing, Unhealthy Relationships, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-02 00:21:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20266945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nostalgic90s/pseuds/nostalgic90s
Summary: Gotham Season 4, Episode 17An alternative outcome for Jerome and Jeremiah's 15-year reunion (takes place during the maze scene).





	Lullaby For A Sadist

**Author's Note:**

> One, I love hurting you  
Two, I love your pain  
Three, let's get together and  
Play the sinner's game  
Four, is for the torture and  
Five, is for the shame  
Cause every time you want it  
I get off on this game
> 
> [ Lullaby For A Sadist by Korn](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qQxBCHWJm-A)

Gripped by perturbation, Jeremiah Valeska hastily navigates the sharp turns and various concrete halls. He must get out of labyrinth. He must put as much distance as he can between him and that _fiend_ he calls brother. Although, he does feel a shred of guilt for abandoning his friend and the detectives.

If throwing them to the wolves guarantees his escape, then so be it.

It wouldn’t be the first time he’s had to do it.

Jeremiah rounds a corner and pauses, having caught sight of a blue arrow-shaped sign.

The fluorescent letters read 'The End' and it points to the left. 

Sighing in relief, he continues walking and approaches the exit. That is, until a hellish voice reverberates off the walls.

"Helloooooo brother~" 

Color drains from Jeremiah’s face and he immediately freezes. Oh, no…. He’d recognize that diabolical voice anywhere. He turns quickly and attempts to flee in the opposite direction. 

The redhead skids to a halt when two individuals appear out of nowhere and they stand in the middle of the hallway, preventing Jeremiah’s escape.

The first man seems normal, besides the top hat and plaid trench coat; he resembles a funny cartoon character. He stands formally, back straight, head held high, and he keeps his gloved hands tucked in front of his waist.

The second man has an exterior made of leather and burlap pieces, all hand sewn together, and monstrous in appearance. He has a scythe in one hand, and his leering stare and heavy breathing is all but subtle.

Panicking, the redhead turns around again and tries to run, only to come face-to-face with the barrel of a gun and his twin sibling.

Jeremiah yelps in fear. 

There he stood, Jerome Valeska in all his glory. Worshiped by many, feared by all, and hated by the world – arguably, there can’t be any hate without a little love.

A delighted grin curls Jerome’s scarred lips and his eyes light up at the sight of his long-lost brother. "So! How ya been?!" He raises his hands and motions to his twin. "Oh, you look _great_!" Eyeing Jeremiah up and down, a high-pitch giggle erupts from that grotesque mouth. "Haha! And to think I use to be the handsome one right?"

Unamused and definitely not flattered, Jeremiah’s mouth pinches. "How did you find your way through the maze?"

"Aww bro...." Jerome puckers up and pretends to pout, "We might not look the same anymore but we still-" He taps a finger on Jeremiah’s forehead, "-_think_ the same. Plus you used to draw those stupid things all the time as a kid. I paid ATTENTION!" He growls the last word, making his twin flinch.

Jerome glances over Jeremiah's shoulder, "Hey uh...Hat Head" He points at the man in a top hat.

Jervis regards Jerome with a frown.

"Take Crane, find Jimbo and his bearded sidekick." Jerome waves his gun towards the other end of the hall. “Kill them.”

Jervis and Jonathan vacate the area, leaving the Valeska twins alone.

Jeremiah watches the two men disappear. He almost calls for out them to stay but at this point, it probably wouldn’t make a difference. A sense of foreboding covers him and he turns his attention back the sneering monstrosity that is Jerome.

"I've been waiting for this moment for 15 years~" Jerome coos softly, while placing his elbow against the wall and leaning. He tucks his left hand over his hip and dangles the gun from his right hand, keeping the barrel pointed at Jeremiah all the while. He wears a big toothy smile, displaying those gorgeous pearly whites of his- a rarity among circus folk. “Ever since you ran away in the middle of the night like a _coward_.”

“You’re insane…,” says Jeremiah.

“Yeah,” Jerome nods in agreement.

“And I tried telling mom but she didn’t want to listen to me.” Jeremiah inhales a deep breath to try to calm his frazzled nerves. He finds himself staring at Jerome, whose face doesn’t resemble his own anymore. It’s a Godsend, right? Jeremiah doesn’t want any part of his brother, least of all a face that will forever remind Gotham of the atrocities Jerome committed.

Jeremiah carries on, “You blame me for everything that’s gone wrong in your life, but the truth is… Jerome. Is you were born bad.”

“Born bad, huh?” Jerome clicks his tongue, head bobbing up and down. “So that’s why you made her think…. That I tried to kill ya, right?”

“Yeah we both-”

“WHAT WAS IT AGAIN?!” Jerome interrupts, “What was it…. I put a blade-” He shoves the other male, “-to your throat.”

Jeremiah recoils.

“No, no, no, no, no…. I tried to light ya on fire!” Jerome slaps a hand to Jeremiah’s chest. 

The unwelcome physical contact pushes Jeremiah over the edge and he snaps. “WE BOTH KNOW YOU WANTED TO!”

Jerome suddenly advances and invades Jeremiah’s personal space. He stands uncomfortably close, practically nose-to-nose with his brother. Then, the words spill out in a gravelly tone that twists Jeremiah’s stomach into knots.

“Yeah, that was a _funny_ story, wasn’t it?”

Jeremiah gulps and he tears his gaze away. “O-okay….” His voice shakes, “Maybe it didn’t happen exactly like that…” He forces himself to look at Jerome and his voice steadies. “But I didn’t have a choice and I was right.”

Jerome wiggles his eyebrows, “Hmm?”

“You killed our mother…” Jeremiah takes a couple steps backwards, grief forcing him to look away.

A gloved hand shoots out and grips Jeremiah’s tie, followed by a hard jerk that nearly makes him fall over.

Jerome is up in his brother’s face again. “She did deserve it though.” It’s not humanly impossible for Jerome’s smile to grow any bigger, but it does anyway, and he emits guttural laughter. “See, after that _whore_ hid you away…. She gave up on me. _Poisoned_ by your stories.”

<strike>Jerome is sitting in a pool of whiskey and broken shards of glass, his head aching from the surprise attack. He lowers his hand, glances at the blood on his fingers, and looks up at his mother. “Leave me alone.”</strike>

<strike>“Leave me alone!” Lila says mockingly. “You’re fucking pathetic Jerome. You’re the laziest worker here, always taking off to party in the city all hours of the night! What, your fucking faggot friends better than your own family now?!”</strike>

<strike>Jerome tenses up.</strike>

<strike>“Yeah you think we didn’t know? The whole fucking circus knows about your faggot adventures. Do you think you’re better than us now? Huh?! Just because you get to play pretend for a couple of hours. You’re TRASH Jerome. That’s all you’re ever going to be.” Lila leans against the wall for support. “It’s no wonder Jeremiah left. He couldn’t stand the fucking sight of you and neither can I. You’d be better off dead!”</strike>

Rage boils in his blood, forcing Jerome to break his composure. He releases Jeremiah’s tie, balls up a fist, and sucker-punches his brother in the face.

**BAM!**

Jeremiah lets out a startled cry when a lightning bolt of pain sets his face on fire. Everything turns a blinding white and the redhead staggers.

Jerome grabs Jeremiah’s shoulders and pulls him closer. He screams into his brother’s face, “YOU TURNED EVERYONE I EVER LOVED AGAINST ME! MY OWN FLESH AND BLOOD!”

The words cut deep and puncture his heart. For more than a decade, Jeremiah and his lies lived a peaceful existence. Nobody outside of the circus knew about Jerome’s existence, so nobody could question Jeremiah or cast doubt on his troubled past. As far as everybody else was concerned, Jerome is a disturbed, shortsighted psychopath. Not Jeremiah, he isn’t anything like his brother.

Traitor.

Deceiver.

Coward.

Jeremiah is all those things but at least he isn’t a murderer; he hasn’t crossed that line _yet_.

Suppressing unease and disregarding the ache in his face, Jeremiah whispers, “Do it.” His eyes are bright with unshed tears whereas Jerome’s are dark and full of wrath, and rightly so.

“Huh?” Jerome cocks his head.

“Shoot me…. Get it over and done with.”

“What’s the rush bro? Ya got some place better to be?” He trails a finger down Jeremiah’s suit jacket. A playful smirk stretches across his face, the scars skewing up into unappealing knolls. It was almost as if his fury withered away, joviality taking its place instead.

Jeremiah doesn’t answer. He closes his eyes and waits for the inevitable gunshot.

Something snaps, like a cut string, followed by a light clatter on the floor.

“What are you-” Jeremiah’s eyes flutter open and he glances down. The last button on his suit jacket was sliced off by a switchblade – the gun is nowhere in sight.

“Know what I missed most about ya?” He jerks the blade upwards, cutting another button off.

“…..” Jeremiah resists the urge to stop him because he doesn’t want to risk a fatal stabbing.

The silence doesn’t discourage Jerome and he continues, “Having someone around to hold an ice pack for me when I was too sore to move.”

Another cut, another lost button.

“Sometimes we didn’t have anything to help the pain. So, when I was moanin’ and groanin’ about broken bones, you’d put a pillow on yer lap and have me rest my head over it. You would brush yer fingers through my hair until I fell asleep, even if it took all night. I was addicted to that shit. Remember?”

No.

Yes.

Jeremiah remembers but he doesn’t want to. He watches the switchblade disappear underneath Jerome’s sleeve.

Jerome hooks his fingers into Jeremiah’s suit jacket and pulls it apart. He ogles the horrid brown sweater vest and laughs, “Yer fashion sense hasn’t changed at all!”

Scowling and blushing in embarrassment, Jeremiah impulsively smacks Jerome’s hands away. “Fuck you.”

Jerome feigns shock, “You kiss yer mother with _that_ mouth?!”

Jeremiah’s lips part and-

Jerome abruptly shoves his brother into the concrete wall. “It was rhetorical.” He forces his right leg between Jeremiah’s thighs and applies pressure.

“S-stop!” Jeremiah tries to squeeze his legs together, but Jerome proves to be stronger. He squeals from the pain in his groin, finally relenting and spreading his legs.

“Good boy~” Jerome presses into Jeremiah’s body, arms snaking their way around his waist, and he pecks a kiss to his cheekbone.

His stomach is hurting again, and it feels like his heart is about to burst out of his chest. Jeremiah clutches Jerome by the sleeves of his suit jacket, his own body shivering – he can’t tell if it’s from fear or anticipation. It’s undoubtedly the latter, it _has_ to be.

Jerome tilts his head and he mouths along Jeremiah’s neck, leaving hot kisses in his wake. He hovers over Jeremiah’s Adam’s apple for a few seconds before flicking his tongue out and tasting the bulging flesh.

The carnal act almost rips a moan from Jeremiah’s throat, but he bites down on his tongue to stop it.

“Mmm, you taste good~” purrs Jerome, making Jeremiah turn a deeper shade of red. He likes how hard Jeremiah is trying to control himself, finding it both endearing and amusing. “Know what else I remember? Two 4-year-old boys playing marbles out in a wheat field. One boy likes kisses and hugs, maybe too much. The other is afraid to give and receive affection, but when they’re alone… They give each other everything they need.”

Jeremiah’s heart flutters and he deliberately turns his head the other way, mentally tuning his brother out.

No, no, no, please don’t do this.

Jerome withdraws his tongue and trails kisses over Jeremiah’s jawline, eliciting a tremble. “We used to pull pranks on the other circus kids, oh man Curtis and Penelope were the easiest ones. All I had to do was steal Owen's reading glasses, put em' on and comb my hair to the side. Then we’d freak people out by pretending to be you. HAHA! Lila hated that so much, she’d have to be nice to both of us until she figured out which one was me.”

Unwarranted nostalgia seeps into Jeremiah and he worries he might throw up. He’s watching the empty corridor, hoping to see the hat guy again or his creepy associate. Did they get lost in the maze? It’s possible. Harvey and Jim have also been gone for a long period.

“Look at me.”

Jeremiah hesitates.

“Miah, please look at me.”

There’s a softness to Jerome’s voice and it shocks Jeremiah, so much in fact, he has to look at Jerome to make sure it’s the same person.

It is.

Jerome isn’t menacing anymore, he looks aged, weary, distance in his eyes, as if he experienced one too many awful things in his short life. There’s a single question burning in his mind but no matter how hard he tries to fish it out, he ends up hooking a memory in its place – good memories at that, so he has no complaints.

“Valentines Day, I think we were 9 or 10, I remember waking up and going to the bathroom early in the morning. I took a piss, washed my hands, and when I looked up in the mirror, I saw what you did to my face. It was covered in red lipstick kisses! Lila’s favorite lipstick is the red one, but she’d rather cut her tongue off then kiss me. I was so fucking happy, I wore those stupid marks like a wedding ring, loud and proud.” Jerome smiles fondly at the memory, leaving out the part where Zach backhanded him and told him to wash that shit off.

There’s a multitude of emotions storming inside Jeremiah and he doesn’t know how he should feel. He does remember everything as vivid and as clear as day. What he doesn’t understand is why Jerome is bringing this all up now, but he decides to go with it, and allows self-preservation to take over.

Jeremiah inclines and presses a tender kiss to Jerome’s disfigured lips.

The gesture spooks Jerome, causing him to twitch and lean back, eyes round and blinking.

For the briefest of moments, Jeremiah feels a painful tug on his heart – Jerome looks confused. Why is he confused?

“What’s wrong?” Jeremiah asks.

Unfortunately, Jerome lost all feeling in his face, including his mouth. Fucking Dwight, that asshole deserved his untimely demise. Now, Jerome couldn’t experience Jeremiah’s kiss to the fullest, and that alone was disheartening and sad.

“Why?” murmurs Jerome.

“Why? Why did I kiss you?” Jeremiah furrows his eyebrows.

“No,” Jerome shakes his head. “I mean… Why’d ya do it? Why’d ya lie about me and spread all those rumors?”

Jeremiah’s breath hitches and he nearly chokes on his own saliva. He turns his head to the side and coughs spittle.

That _Godforsaken_ question… it found him, just like Jerome found him. Self-preservation be damned, Jeremiah wasn’t about to give him what he wanted.

Wearing a tight-lip frown, Jeremiah narrows his eyes and addresses the accusation. “I did no such thing, and you’re so-called memories? None of it happened.”

Jerome scowls, “The hell are you talking about?”

“In my experience… Good memories from the past are never as good as we remember them and the bad ones are worse than we remember them.”

“…. Are you saying I made everything up?”

“Yes. You’re a compulsive liar and an attention whore.”

The comment tickles Jerome and a shrill cackle follows. “HAHAHAHA! Christ, I guess that makes sense.” He slaps a hand over his own forehead, “I mean… All the shit I went through… If I didn’t have fake memories then I woulda offed myself years ago~” He ghosts his mouth over Jeremiah’s own and growls quietly, “It’s enough to drive a guy _insane_, ya know?”

Jeremiah shivers but he grits his teeth together and glares daggers. “I had nothing to do with that.”

“Yeah, you did.” Jerome dares himself to brush a kiss over Jeremiah’s mouth, to which his brother jolts in place. Hands clamp around Jerome’s neck and squeeze tight, causing the deranged redhead to laugh. “Cause and effect! Yer the cause, and I’m the effect~” 

“You’re wrong.” Jeremiah clutches Jerome’s neck in a vice-like grip. When he starts to crush his brother’s esophagus, a high-pitch titter stems from the back of his throat. “I had nothing to do with your shitty life and death! If you’d been smarter about picking your friends instead of trusting a wannabe millionaire who was clearly USING you, then maybe your face would be intact. Maybe, you’d be living a relatively normal life today.”

Jerome doesn’t so much as bat an eye. Fortunately, he flexed out his neck muscles to thwart Jeremiah’s plan. Choking, how cute. “Yer talking about Theo Galavan?” His words are strained, but Jeremiah is close enough to comprehend. “Been keepin’ tabs on me? D’aww, that’s sweet of ya~”

Jeremiah doesn’t respond, even though it looks like a blood vessel is about to pop out of his forehead.

Fuck, it was getting harder and harder to breathe – Jeremiah wasn’t as weak as he looked. All Jerome had to do was retrieve his switchblade and shove it against Jeremiah’s neck, coercing him to let go.

“Jesus,” Jerome swallows mouthfuls of air to relieve the burning inside his chest. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say yer jealous.”

“_Jealous?_” Jeremiah bristles, “Hardly.”

“Yeah, cuz I went to Theo first and not you~”

Jeremiah’s hands curl into fists and his nostrils marginally flare. “I could care less about the miscreants you fraternize with.”

“Liar, liar, pants on fire~” Jerome sings.

“You’re doing it again… You’re altering the truth.” Jeremiah huffs impatiently, “You say I haven’t changed? Well, neither have you.”

Jerome quirks an eyebrow and waits.

“I don’t know when it started… I remember… You had this _obsession_ with me, that much I know, but I was too young to comprehend jealousy. Whenever mother praised me, you hurt me. Whenever I built something, you destroyed it. If I spoke to anyone without your permission…” Jeremiah tapers off, shuddering at the memory of a dark wardrobe that was too small for him to sit comfortably. “You trapped me inside a wardrobe.” 

“Are ya sure about that?” Jerome brushes the blade along the warm skin. “Cuz I recall a certain someone asking me to lock him in there. You had to know what it felt like, so you could describe it in detail when you went running to our whore mother with those big crocodile tears.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking ab-”

“Snake.”

“Excuse me?”

“The first time… the first time you fucked me over, it involved one of Lila’s snakes. You _remember_, don’t cha?”

“Refresh my memory.”

Jerome has a peculiar grin on his face, an all-knowing jeer, like he’s about to reveal a dirty secret. He leans in and presses a sloppy, wet kiss to Jeremiah’s neck. “Ya broke into the reptile trailer and stole a python. We met outside the campgrounds, by a big ol’ oak tree where you proceeded to skin the snake _alive_~” 

The rumble in Jerome’s voice had Jeremiah clinging to him again, and he listened, oh did he hang on every single word.

“When you made the first cut and got blood all over yer hands, I wanted to puke. But I couldn’t do that, no, no, no, I wanted to impress ya. You showed me where to insert the knife, how to hold and angle the blade, and how to peel back the skin. Gotta say, it was _very_ instructional, like you were a pro. Do you know what happened next?”

Jeremiah shakes his head, stomach full of butterflies.

Jerome moves higher and nuzzles a kiss against Jeremiah’s ear, tongue gliding out to lick the shell of his ear. “You handed the knife over to me and told me to finish up, while you go look for a sharper knife. I tried to finish the last part on my own, but I ended up cutting my hand because I wasn’t as skilled. Then… I hear _her_ voice, yelling and cursing my name. Imagine my disbelief when I turn around and see you huddling behind Lila, cryin’ and pointin’ a finger at me. I threw the knife down and tried to ask you what happened, but that stupid bitch wouldn’t let me near you. You got out of the situation unscathed, now me on the other hand… I was black and blue for _weeks_.”

The knife presses harder into Jeremiah’s neck, the tip piercing flesh and drawing blood.

The pain makes Jeremiah whine, but the cause is not his neck.

“Zach and Lila, they beat me something awful... Didn’t have money to go to a hospital, so I stayed in bed for weeks and guess who was there to nurture me back to health?” He moves the switchblade left, creating a pretty, bleeding wound. Jerome trains his attention on the blood, “You were right there to feed me chicken noodle soup and to remind me…”

Jerome pauses. His face scrunches, his jaw clenches, and he unconsciously grinds his teeth together. “You said… You said you’re _wrong_, Jerome. You are _bad_. They _hate_ you.”

The blade stops moving, as does Jerome’s mouth.

Liquid warmth oozes into Jeremiah’s blue dress shirt, but the cut doesn’t hurt nearly as much as the venom in Jerome’s words.

For 15 years, Jeremiah Valeska was a ghost, replaced by a new alias: Xander Wilde. Be it an extravagant manor, or a celebrated Ivy League College, or the concrete walls of his labyrinth, Xander was safe in his culpable life. He established himself as a successful engineer and gained esteemed clientele all over the world. He was intelligent, resourceful, confident, surrounded by decent people, not low-life criminals.

Xander is a law-abiding citizen, a _true_ example of morality and sanity. He would never, ever, let a monster like Jerome Valeska waltz into his life and cause upheaval – a life he worked diligently to achieve.

Jeremiah guides the switchblade away form his neck and cups Jerome’s face, angling it so they could look each other in the eyes. “I see what you’re doing… You’re confusing partial truths and creating false memories.”

“I am?” Jerome slips the knife back into his sleeve. “Did I…. Did I create this too?”

“What do you-” Before Jeremiah can finish his sentence, Jerome reaches down and gropes his crotch.

Jerome roughly palms the area and Jeremiah melts.

“Nnnn!~” He arches his back and inadvertently pushes into Jerome’s hand – lack of intimacy left the poor man starved.

“Ya got hard as soon as I mentioned the snake thing and getting beat up… Tell me, am I confusing partial truths right now?” Jerome licks a hot, wet stripe over Jeremiah’s wound, lapping blood along the way.

“N-no,” Jeremiah chews on his inner cheekbone to keep his voice under control.

“Good~” Jerome purrs into Jeremiah’s neck and he uses his tongue to poke and prod the cut. Meanwhile, he grasps his brother’s hard shaft outside of his pants and gives a few test strokes.

Jeremiah writhes, head tilting back, and a fervent moan escapes.

“Fuck… I missed yer voice~” Jerome works his hand at a moderate pace, while Jeremiah matches in eager hip thrusts.

It’s perverse and wrong on every level. Perhaps that’s why Jeremiah enjoys it so much. Addicts chase drugs and alcohol for their high, whereas adrenaline junkies chase death. Jeremiah can attribute this as the same thing.

Long, long ago, in another world, in another time, the Valeska twins shared their vulnerabilities more readily than trading cards, interlocking their hearts as much as their fingers. Jerome took root in Jeremiah in a way he’d never let another soul do, feeling that Jerome was his shelter and Jeremiah his.

To test his brother’s loyalty, Jeremiah would deliberately injure himself and lie about how he received the bruises and cuts, resulting in brutal, tortuous punishments for Jerome. Then, he’d crawl back into his affections – Jerome _always_ welcomed him back with open arms. In the end, Jeremiah grew bored and he took it upon himself to sever their bond.

The outcome was favorable for Jeremiah Valeska, but not so much for Jerome Valeska. 

To come so close to pure love and loose it so violently is something no amount of time and medication can heal.

Hate is ever-present and seeing each other again after all those years rekindled a paroxysm of frenzied agony.

Jerome erupts into a fit of laughter, borderline hysterical. “Hahahahahahaha!!! Wait until they hear about this.”

Jeremiah stops moving and his eyelids flutter; he’s lightheaded. “Who is ‘they’? Hear about what exactly?”

“Gotham.” Jerome lets go of Jeremiah’s erection and raises his hand, fingers wiggling; the white glove is drenched in pre-cum. “Why, the truth of course!”

“Truth?” Concern etches itself across Jeremiah’s face. He puts his arousal aside and searches for a distinct answer. “What do you mean? Could you be any less vague?”

Jerome sniggers and he holds his arms out, stepping back to do a dramatic twirl. “The truth about _Xander_ _Wilde_,” he spits the name disdainfully. “Who he truly is, where he comes from, and how he obtained his pretentious, perfect, little gift-wrapped life~”

Dread settles in the pit of Jeremiah’s stomach and his eyes widen, “You wouldn’t…”

“Oh, but I would.” Jerome does a 2nd twirl, “See I know things about you, brother dear~ And tomorrow night we’re gonna empty out the closet! Yeah, show everyone those skeletons ya been hiding.”

“…I’m not following.”

Jerome freezes mid-turn and while staring at Jeremiah, he raises his right hand to his mouth. “Everyone will know the truth about Jeremiah Valeska.” He dips his tongue in the wet spot on his glove, “_Yer as crazy as I am~_”

Jeremiah adopts an icy monotone and asserts, “Your plan will fail.”

“Pfft! Who’s gonna stop me? Jimbo and his army of pencil pushers?”

“No.” Jeremiah flicks his right wrist, a mechanism clicks, and a small pistol springs out from underneath his sleeve. “I am.” He aims the gun at his brother’s head and pulls the trigger.

**BANG!**

Jerome howls, not from pain, but from the proximity of the shooting; the sound splits his eardrum, equivalent to somebody stabbing him in the ear with an ice pick.

Blood splatters the wall behind Jerome, who staggers around the area, a hand clutching at his left ear.

At first glance, Jeremiah assumes it’s a head shot, in which case Jerome should be dead.

“Jesus tits that hurt! Ughhh…” Jerome’s hand shifts to reveal a giant hole in his ear; the whole thing was nearly blown off, just a few pieces of cartilage are intact.

“Hmm…” Jeremiah isn’t too impressed with his aim and precision. He raises the firearm and points it at Jerome’s chest – a bigger target. “Goodbye, Jerome.”

Jerome throws his middle finger up and flips Jeremiah off. “Shove it up yer ass.”

Jeremiah tuts disapprovingly and goes to pull the trigger-

**BANG!**

**BANG!**

**BANG!**

Multiple gunshots echo throughout the maze but they don't originate from Jeremiah's pistol.

The GCPD detectives.

They’re close.

Too close.

Jeremiah looks to the right, certain he hears Bullock shouting at the top of his lungs.

Jerome takes advantage of the distraction and lunges at his brother.

“Ah!” Jeremiah loses grip on the pistol when Jerome tackles him off his feet.

They are flying through the air and it’s Jeremiah who crashes into the floor first.

Jerome topples over Jeremiah and he kicks the pistol away before his brother can grab it.

“GET OFF!” Jeremiah seizes Jerome by his suit jacket and tries to throw him.

Jerome can’t feel the pain of his severed ear, all thanks to the adrenaline pumping through his veins. He’s stronger and heavier than Jeremiah, making it exceptionally difficult to toss him. He pins one of Jeremiah’s arms down with his knee and he cranks his right arm back.

Everything fades to red.

Vibrant.

Violent.

Romantic.

Red.

Jerome slams his fist into Jeremiah’s face.

**BAM!**

**BAM!**

**BAM!**

<strike>“Just promise me one thing Miah…” Jerome squeezed his brother’s hand, “First chance you get to leave this place… Take it.”</strike>

<strike>“What about you?” inquired Jeremiah.</strike>

<strike>“What about me?” Jerome shrugged, “I’m just some dumb circus kid who runs his mouth too much. I’ll probably turn into an alcoholic or drug addict by the time I’m twenty but at least you’ll be in college by then.”</strike>

<strike>“No.” Jeremiah lifted his head and stared at his brother with a serious expression. “That won’t happen to you because I’m not going to leave you behind Jay.”</strike>

<strike>“Promise?”</strike>

<strike>“Promise.”</strike>

<strike>Jerome held up his right pinky finger.</strike>

<strike>Understanding the gesture, Jeremiah extends his right pinky finger and curls it around Jerome’s appendage.</strike>

**BAM!**

**BAM!**

**BAM!**

Jeremiah’s glasses are broken, its pieces shattered and strewn all over the floor, except for a few sticking out of Jerome’s hand.

Jerome pants heavily, his face red, and beads of sweat trickle down his cheekbones.

The red fades.

Vision and clarity returns.

Jeremiah’s has a broken nose, his bottom lip is split open, and his right eye is flushed red – blood vessels must’ve ruptured during the assault. Everything is throbbing. Everything hurts. He tastes bitter copper. He doesn’t move, but rather assesses the situation and explores possible ways of getting out alive.

There’s a clicking noise, trailed by the swish of a blade.

Jerome positions the switch blade underneath Jeremiah’s dress shirt. He slices upwards, cutting through the dress shirt and sweater vest, all the way up to the neatly pressed collar; multiple buttons bounce off onto the floor.

“J….J…” Jeremiah struggles to talk over his injuries.

Ignoring his twin, Jerome pushes the dress shirt open, exposing Jeremiah’s flawless, smooth skin. Not a single scar or bruise could touch that lovely piece of art.

It disgusts Jerome, and he can’t deny the inexplicable craving to mar Jeremiah's beautiful flesh. He traces the blade around his brother's naval, admiring the auburn trail of hair that disappears under the waistline of his slacks.

The knife pushes into Jeremiah’s stomach and-

“Jay.”

Jerome halts, and he looks at Jeremiah.

“P-please…don’t…do... this.”

“Why?”

“B-because…” Jeremiah lifts a trembling hand, “We have…shared trauma.”

“We do, don’t we?” Jerome nuzzles his cheekbone against Jeremiah’s extended hand. He kisses the palm and leans down, hovering an inch above his brother’s battered face.

Jerome kisses him.

Jeremiah flinches, his mouth burns on contact.

Jerome pulls back, his lips stained red. “So, what’s a little more?”

The comment puzzles Jeremiah. “Jay…”

“That isn’t gonna work,” Jerome says, disappointment in his tone. “I’m not a kid anymore. You can’t trick me.”

“P-please...” Jeremiah puts a hand on Jerome’s arm and squeezes weakly.

**SHLUCK!**

Jerome stabs the 6-inch blade into his brother’s chest.

Jeremiah screams.

**SHLUCK!**

**SHLUCK!**

**SHLUCK!**

**SHLUCK!**

**SHLUCK!**

**SHLUCK!**

**SHLUCK!**

“AHHHHHHHHH!!!!!” Jeremiah feebly tries to block the knife with his arms. His efforts are in vain.

Jerome stabs away until Jeremiah’s chest looks like one of those fucking connect-the-dot games.

Eventually, Jeremiah’s voice cuts off.

Eventually, Jeremiah falls motionless.

Jeremiah Valeska is dead by the time Jerome finishes.

Jerome slits his brother’s neck, for added measure – people don’t stay dead in Gotham, as he recently discovered.

Blood pours from Jeremiah’s lifeless, mutilated corpse. His green eyes stare blankly at the ceiling, his mouth slightly open, his insides hanging out from his stomach.

“Beautiful~” Jerome mumbles drowsily; blood loss was affecting his disposition. He’s dazed. He’s not even sure if he’s alive or dead right now, or if he’s dreaming something wonderful.

Additional gunshots go off down the hallway.

**BANG!**

**BANG!**

Footsteps are fast approaching.

“MUST GO! MUST GO! THEY’RE AFTER ME AND THE SCARECROW!” Jervis shouts frantically.

Jerome tucks the switchblade away and bends over the gory mess that is his twin sibling. He kisses him on the cheek and whispers, “Give mother my warmest regards~” He rises to his feet and sways. Shit… He lost a lot of blood.

Jervis races around a corner, Jonathan close in tow.

The eldest male shrieks and almost faints at the sight of a blood-soaked Jerome Valeska.

If it wasn’t for Jonathan’s firm hold on Jervis’s arm, he might’ve very well passed out.

Jerome smirks and motions to the exit sign with a head tilt. “Go.”

Jervis and Jonathan don’t hesitate to sprint over to the exit.

Harvey’s bellowing voice sounds nearby.

Jerome Valeska stares down at the cold, dead, green eyes of Jeremiah Valeska and he thinks – scratch that. He fucking _knows_… He still loves him.

The Legion of Horribles escape through the one and only exit. Bridget is already waiting outside in a black van. She doesn't ask about Jerome's missing ear, nor does he offer an explanation. They drive into the murky forest and disappear. 

Jim Gordon and Harvey Bullock nearly shit their pants when they come across Jeremiah’s maimed corpse.

Harvey lasts all but 10 seconds before puking his guts out.

Jim radios the GCPD and requests they put him through to the coroner.

* * *

Who doesn't love a little J & J Fan Art?! 

Original Artist: brotherfuckersanonymous 

Colored By: ME!

Yes, I did ask permission to color one of brotherfuckersanonymous's doodles (Thank you btw) and I'm proud of how it turned out.

If you'd like to see the original black and white sketch, you can check out brotherfuckersanonymous tumbler page right here: https://brotherfuckersanonymous.tumblr.com/ 

**Author's Note:**

> This is my 2nd time writing the maze scene out. I couldn't make up my mind how I wanted this to end! I had this Shakespearean idea where they both end up dying (might have to write that out and post it as another alternative ending). Also, I wanted to bring up more talking points on Theo Galavan and show how irked Jeremiah really was about that, but I didn't want it to dragggg on forever.
> 
> JAM! Sorry this took me longer then expected. Hope you enjoyed the wardrobe reference :3 I got that one from you and I still think it's a fantastic idea, might include that in another story. 
> 
> Another shout out to OhMyGlobWhatthefrickamievendoing, I got the 'skinning one of Lila's snakes' idea from one of their fanfics.
> 
> Bonus points if you can spot the OINTB quote and Stranger Things quote.


End file.
